


Sister Death

by nohrg



Category: Gideon the Ninth - Tamsyn Muir
Genre: Gen, I got "melancholy pining" as a prompt, Yuletide 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:48:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21812446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nohrg/pseuds/nohrg
Summary: They wrote, back and forth, pages and pages about books and necromancy and medicine and whatever else was on their minds. A friendship of sorts, kept distant by formality and the speed of a shuttle.
Relationships: Dulcinea Septimus & Palamedes Sextus
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	Sister Death

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Silvereye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silvereye/gifts).



Dulcinea lounged, a beautiful vision of Death in red across the stark white daybed in the garden. It was appallingly poetic, straight out of her romance novels, with vines wrapping around the dark wood and white cushions.

It was all she did, really. Lounge, read, remain beautifully full of necromantic energy.

Protesilaus, her ever-faithful cavalier, entered Dulcinea’s garden domain with a tray. He set it down far more gently on the side table than one would expect of a man his size.

“Oh Pro, what concoction are we using this month to keep me gracefully at Death’s door?” Dulcinea asked with a teasing smile.

Pro shook his head in amusement as he handed over the cocktail of medicine. “You got a letter today, m’lady.”

“A letter?” Dulcinea gasped in excitement. “Who wrote me a letter?”

Pro pointed at the medicine. “That first, then your letter.”

Dulcinea rolled her eyes. “Must you always ruin my fun, Pro?”

“That is my job, m’lady.”

Downing the disgusting brew, Dulcinea held out her hand expectantly. Pro gently laid the letter down, the seal already broken.  
  


_To Dulcinea Septimus, Heir to the House of the Seventh, Duchess of Rhodes,_

_Forgive me for my forwardness, but I have heard many things about you and wished to offer you the resources of the Sixth House to find a cure for your condition._ _My friend Camilla informs me that I am much too blunt with my words, but after many rewrites of this letter, I have found that I cannot be anything but truthful._

_From what I have read, the precise nature of your cancer is unique to your House’s line, but it bears similarities to the more common consumption, best treated with bed rest and fresh air. It’s fascinating how many of your progenitors carried the same condition. It must make for such powerful necromancy, far different from the Sixth House’s. I want to know everything about medicine now!_

_I hope you will consider writing back._

_Yours,  
_ _Palamedes Sextus  
_ _Son to the House of the Sixth  
_ _Warden of the Library  
  
_

Dulcinea smiled, then chuckled, rolling into a full blown laugh before she started coughing. Pro gently eased her out of the coughing fit with thumps to her back.

“If I may, what’s so funny, m’lady?” he asked.

Dulcinea hummed. “Bring me something with which to reply, and I will explain why a child is studying medicine for my sake.”

* * *

She responded that she was appreciative but realistic about what Palamedes could know and understand, child that he was. At the same time, no one had ever written a letter to her, on paper no less, and she very much wished to continue correspondence with the son of the Sixth.

They wrote, back and forth, pages and pages about books and necromancy and medicine and whatever else was on their minds. A friendship of sorts, kept distant by formality and the speed of a shuttle.

_Dearest Dulcinea, you will never believe what I discovered deep in the archive today_ , a letter would begin, and Palamedes would describe necromantic theorems and medical treatments the way Dulcinea’s romance authors wrote about love. She found it charming, and would tell him so.

_Dearest Dulcinea, I am rising quickly in the ranks of the Sixth House. I hope to someday be worthy of meeting you as equals,_ he would write. As he grew, he had stopped describing all her symptoms in such excruciating detail, opting more for describing his own life and studies of treating disease.

It was almost heartbreaking, how this child was clearly falling in love with the image of living death.

That was her latest epithet, Dulcinea had decided in a fit of morbidity, after her latest novel failed to distract from the constant pain.

Palamedes’s letters always served as a lovely, if fleeting, distraction.  
  


_Dearest Dulcinea,_

_I’ve done it. I’ve become Heir to the House of the Sixth, Master Warden of the Library. The Honored Master Warden has named me her heir for my work and dedication._

_My friend Camilla has become my cavalier as well._

_I have to hurry. The Honored Master Warden is putting us through grueling hours to get up to speed. But I wanted to let you know. I hope that I will be able to help you more now that I have full access to the Library._

_Yours ever,  
_ _Palamedes Sextus  
_ _Heir to the House of the Sixth  
_ _Master Warden of the Library_

* * *

The cancer grew worse by the year, but that was nothing new for Dulcinea. Protesilaus had to yank the latest letter from Palamedes out of her hands so that she did not cough blood onto her friend’s words.  
  


_Dearest Dulcinea,_

_I wish for your days to end in comfort among those who care for you. Please allow the House of the Sixth to aid you in whatever way we can. We have the most complete body of medical knowledge of any of the Houses._

_To that end, I offer you my hand in marriage._

_Join me here, in the Sixth House. I assure you, our gardens are almost as lovely as the ones you’ve described to me, and our care as best as any can offer._

_Yours ever, if you will have me,  
_ _Palamedes  
  
_

Dulcinea sighed. She had such lovely sighs, necromantic energy rolling off her in waves every time she breathed. Pro hovered at her shoulder, always worried, always faithful.

Pen to paper, she wrote in the most beautiful calligraphy, refusing her friend’s request. It wasn’t because she didn’t like him, she told herself, but because necromancers could not intermarry between Houses.

It was what she told herself, as she broke her friend’s heart.

* * *

Dulcinea was intrigued by the Emperor’s offer. Perhaps by becoming a lyctor, she could fend off her own death. She’d accepted, at some point over the years, that she would die. But a chance to do something interesting before that, with an even smaller chance of surviving, was very, very compelling.

_Dearest Dulcinea, I’m sure at this point you’ve received your letter from the Emperor. If you decided to enter the lyctor trials yourself, I still very much look forward to meeting you in person._

Their letters had grown sparser over the past year after she refused his hand. It would be nice to meet her friend in the flesh before she passed as well, to give a full explanation that words on paper could not accomplish. She had already penned a reply to his latest letter and was about to send it, hoping it would make it to Palamedes before they had to leave.

First, however, she wanted to ask the Sixth House’s own lyctor about the trials.

* * *

_Dearest Palamedes,_ the unsent letter begun.

Blood dripped off Cytherea’s rapier, joining a deep red pool on the floor of the shuttle. A flimsy piece of paper had fluttered to the floor out of Dulcinea’s pocket, meeting the edge of the dark liquid.

_I very much look forward to one last adventure before my passing._

The cavalier’s head was somewhere under one of these benches. And Cytherea had to figure out what to do with the heir as well. It was a shame the cavalier wouldn’t listen, but what was another death to one who died every day?

_If by chance I become a lyctor, that is one thing. But Death, well, I view her as a sister. I’ve grown close to her with age._

The lyctor had time. The shuttle wouldn’t arrive for more than a day. She began drawing on the boundless necromantic energy she contained to form a beguiling corpse out of the cavalier’s body. Dulcinea watched in horror with tears streaming down her face as the founder of her House molded flesh magic with barely a thought. 

_When my time comes, I will greet her as such. If I pass during these trials, I ask you ahead of time to not grieve, for I wish there to be no sorrow in my passing, only relief._

As Cytherea started crafting Protesilaus’s corpse into something useful, the lyctor felt her own wracking cough begin. Waiting a moment for it to pass, without the aid of a glorified nurse, she continued setting up her plan to kill the Emperor. 

_Perhaps with this chance to explore the First House, I will find a place I wish to die more fitting than a mausoleum. I wonder if there are gardens like my own, older and more wild._

While necromantic energy wove itself throughout the shuttle, an unsent letter slowly dissolved into ink and blood, artful calligraphy bleeding like its writer’s heart.

_I do look forward to meeting you. I have so much more I wish to say._

_Yours,  
_ _Dulcinea_

**Author's Note:**

> This fic would not have been possible without my dear friends R and J, for their editing and advice. 
> 
> Silvereye, I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed getting the chance to write it. Happy Yuletide!
> 
> Title comes from a song that I thought fit Dulcinea well, ["Sister Death"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WsijyH4HDEM) by Look Homeward


End file.
